Slum Online (15 page)

I stared at her. Whatever preconceptions I might have had of the type of woman who would accompany an old man to an arcade in the middle of the day so he could learn to play video games with his grandson, she didn’t fit them.

She feigned offense. “Was it something I said?”

“Not really.”

“You look upset.”

“I’ve never been good at talking people into things.”

“No one said anything about talking them into things they don’t
want
.” She puffed out her cheeks. She was still just young enough to pull the look off. Not that I knew how old she was, but if I had to guess, I’d say she was somewhere between two and five years older than me.

“So what is it then?” I asked.

“Think of it as…role-playing.”

“Not that again.”

“What do you mean?”

“The other day you told me Ganker Jack was only roleplaying.” I frowned. “Or, let me guess. That wasn’t you, that was Hashimoto, and you’ve got your own take on the whole thing.”

Lui gave a vague nod that could have meant anything. The only thing that was clear was that she didn’t want to expand on our virtual conversation here in RL.

The old man’s eyes were still riveted to the control panel. He spoke without looking up. “That your new boyfriend?”

“If he buys me a condo I might consider it,” Lui answered through pale, naked lips.

“It’s always about the money with you.”

“Your grandson’s the one you should be worried about. Before you know it he’ll be begging you for a Porsche or BMW, not coins for arcade games.”

“A Mercedes, now
that’s
a car.”

When we met in the virtual world, I thought Hashimoto was a bit weird. But now I realized we actually had a lot in common. Maybe Lui, who role-played in RL as much as in virtual life, saw the world through the same veil I did. Maybe she heard the same sound FX.

It reminded me of a girlfriend I’d had in high school. She had straight brown hair that streamed behind her when she walked. She was beautiful; a person of few words like myself.

I think people wondered how two people who talked so little were able to communicate, but we always understood each other. I realized if I’d been born a woman, I would have been just like her.

Correction.

Had I been born a woman, I wouldn’t have had half so pretty a face.

The next time I saw the bat lady was in Kabuki-chō Nichōme. As usual, Fumiko was in class, and as usual, I had time to kill. I walked the alleys with blue-cat-hunting highlighter and map in hand.

Nichōme was famous for its gay community. There was a sushi bar there—the entire restaurant consisted of a counter with a well-muscled sushi chef behind it—that everyone at our school called Bert’s because the man behind the counter had a caterpillar-like eyebrow that made him look like the character from
Sesame Street
. I still don’t know what the real name of the place was.

I doubt it had anything to do with Nichōme in particular, but walking by myself I started to understand Fumiko’s irrational fear of the homeless lurking under the eaves of the buildings. So when I heard someone shout out my name from behind me, I let out an uncharacteristic yelp.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The bat lady’s trademark cloak-or-was-it-a-shawl hung from her shoulders. She gave me a bracing pat on the back hard enough to send me into a small coughing fit. The cat map caught Lui’s eye. “What’s that?”

“A map.”

“Running errands for someone?”

“Actually, yes. I’m looking for the blue cat.”

Lui took the map from my hand. “I’ve never seen anyone taking the search so seriously. You writing a book or something?”

“If you want to find a rare item in a game, you either use a strategy guide or make your own map. I haven’t seen any blue cat strategy guides lately.” I held out my hand. “I’ll take that back now.”

“Good luck making it work in RL.”

“It works in games. Why not here?”

“How do you know where one square ends and the next begins?”

“I manage.”

I had to admit, it hadn’t been easy marking off the places we’d already looked. But compared to mapping every pothole in Versus Town, looking for clues to the whereabouts of the blue cat was a piece of cake. RL might have contained a nearly infinite amount of data, but there was nothing that said we needed to put it all down on the map. Anything that didn’t pertain to the search was just noise.

My cell phone rang in my pocket. It was Fumiko. Class had been canceled at the last minute, so she wanted to join the search party. She was already in Kabuki-chō, about thirty meters from where I was standing. I had told her I planned to map the area near Bert’s today.

Fumiko appeared from around the corner. She looked surprised to see me standing next to the bat lady.

“This your girlfriend?” Lui nudged me with her elbow.

I snatched the cat map from her hand. A sidelong glance at Fumiko revealed a complicated expression on her face, no doubt laden with subtle and profound meaning that I was having trouble reading in my current flustered state. Had her hamburger-shop smile greeted me, I would have answered yes without hesitation. Unfortunately, Fumiko’s message was somewhat less clear. I stalled for time with a noncommittal smile.

“Who’s this?” Fumiko’s turn to interrogate.

As an answer coalesced in my head, I realized there wasn’t much information I knew about Lui that I would feel comfortable sharing in front of her. I suspected she worked in a nightclub of some sort, but I wasn’t sure. The only reason I even knew her name was that I’d overheard an old man call her that in an arcade. I knew more about her alternate persona, a ninja named Hashimoto who searched a virtual city night after night for a virtual person known as Ganker Jack. Any way you looked at it, the answer would have come off sounding crazy.

Lui produced a slender cigarette from the folds of her clothes and lit it. “I’m Shinjuku Townsperson A.”

Fumiko’s eyebrows shot upward. “What kind of answer is that?”

“She’s all right. I run into her around here sometimes. I was asking her about the blue cat.”

“That’s right,” answered Lui, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. Tendrils of white smoke twisted and swirled as they dispersed in the sky above the alley. Lui clapped me on the back with a cloth-draped arm that resembled a bat wing. “Don’t wander around here with a sweet thing like that too long. Your wolfish instincts might get the better of you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not cool enough to be a wolf. Not until I get some payback for that fight, at least. Until then, I’m just another pig to the slaughter.”

“
Resurrection of Golden Wolf
,” interjected Fumiko.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s a famous movie. That was the tagline. ‘The wolf lives, and the pigs go to slaughter.’”

“You’re just full of trivia.”

“It’s an old movie anyway.”

“I prefer sheep,” chimed Lui. “There has to be more to the world than wolves and pigs. Sheep might not be the smartest animals, but I’ll take them over wolves and pigs any day.”

“So you’re more
Silence of the Lambs
.”

“A movie buff, are you?”

“What if I am?”

“Nothing. I happen to like Anthony Hopkins.”

They were speaking a code I didn’t understand. “Let’s go.”

I gave Lui a nod as she took another pull on her cigarette. Fumiko had already started walking off. She disappeared around the corner of a narrow alley. I looked back and forth between Lui and the street Fumiko had turned down.

“Go on, chase after her.”

Cat map in hand, I did just that.

CHAPTER 9

> HEY, KARATEKA. YOU TETSUO?

Text bubbled over the man’s head.

> That’s me.

> Let’s fight.

It had been less than forty seconds since I’d logged in to
Versus Town
. The man called out to Tetsuo as he ran down Main Street, the broad thoroughfare leading out of Itchōme. Dirt and stain textures covered his martial arts uniform. He wore a black wristband. His feet were bare. A large toothpick protruded from the corner of the mouth texture on his face. He looked like a heavyweight drunken fist.

Without another word, he attacked. I crouched to duck under his leading punch and backed Tetsuo off to the right.

> You running?

Keeping one hand on the stick, I tapped out a reply on the keyboard.

> No, but you’ll wish I had.

Drunken fist is a Chinese martial art so named because its techniques resemble the erratic stagger of a drunk. The unpredictable and unusual moves are meant to confuse the opponent. It’s a fun school to play and watch, but it’s not very effective in a streetfight. It was unusual to see a drunken fist rise to the rank of black wrist street fighter.

I counted slowly to three before giving the speed dash command. Tetsuo rushed forward.

The drunken fist stumbled back to the right as he swung at Tetsuo with a backhand. Tetsuo pivoted to the left out of the way of the oncoming attack and launched a middle kick. The drunken fist blocked. Tetsuo threw his fastest punch, then immediately canceled out of the move and executed a dash-throw combo. He grabbed the drunken fist by the back of the neck and head-butted him, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

I spied a lamppost at the edge of the screen. Tetsuo circled the post in a broad arc. The drunken fist rose and followed. Exchanging minor blows with his opponent, Tetsuo retreated. A wall textured with concrete blocks loomed at his back.

When there was no more room to back up, the drunken fist charged. I was ready for him. I pressed the stick up and to the right. Tetsuo jumped toward the lamppost. Just before hitting the post Tetsuo air-blocked, then pushed off the post to land behind the drunken fist. The drunken fist was still recovering from his last attack. Tetsuo finished him with a midair combo off a flying knee kick.

The turquoise blue sky stretched overhead. A motley selection of characters ran along the right side of Main Street. Unchanging shadows stretched across the gray-textured ground.

It was 11:30
PM
.

> Another one bites the dust.

I meant to say it to myself, but I typed it without even realizing. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed hold of the stick. Tetsuo turned down an alley off Main Street and started making his way toward Sanchōme.

Ever since Ganker Jack had shown up, street fights had become increasingly common. The white headband Tetsuo wore signaled that he belonged to the most skilled group of street fighters. It also meant he was honor-bound to accept any and all challenges. When a worthy opponent presented himself, Tetsuo was happy to fight. In Versus Town, fights made the world go round.

But in the last week, things had gotten out of hand. The drunken fist I’d just wiped the floor with wasn’t the worst player in the game, but he was a few miles short of the best. He was only slightly better than the average player Tetsuo faced in the arena. If he really wanted to improve, he needed to put in some serious arena time practicing combos before he started wandering the streets picking fights.

Then there was the fact that the drunken fist had addressed Tetsuo by name. He had known Tetsuo would be coming, and he’d been waiting for him on Main Street. That was something else entirely.

Hashimoto was using Tetsuo as bait. He had started a rumor in the arena about a karateka named Tetsuo, and now he was waiting for Jack to move in for the kill. Hashimoto knew the route Tetsuo took from Itchōme to the JTS Saloon. He had lookouts tucked in every corner of Versus Town just waiting for Ganker Jack to show his stripes. In the meantime, every fighter in the city looking to make a name for himself was hunting Tetsuo as if he had a bright red target on his chest.

Watching Hashimoto go happily about his search for Jack’s true identity, I wondered whether it was the prospect of finding out the truth that kept him going or simply the joy of the hunt. I had promised Hashimoto I would help, so I could hardly complain. And besides, I had to tip my hat to him for even making the attempt. But for Hashimoto to learn Jack’s identity, Tetsuo had to lose to him. That was the rub. Hashimoto didn’t think Tetsuo could beat Jack. It was a weird sort of expectation to try to live up to.